


Inadvertent Alternate

by GentleSoul76



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, Trans!Allen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7876609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleSoul76/pseuds/GentleSoul76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Allen is attacked by Apocryphos in his cell under the Black Order after disobeying orders in letting Alma Karma go free, instead of the Noah saving him, Allen is transported by the Ark to somewhere strange, and... in the middle of a desert. Great, just his luck. Trans!Allen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shatter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so, this is my first DGM fic, so sorry if the characters are a little ooc at first, I'm trying my best.  
> So, Allen is not fem!, he is Trans male, since I know DGM is mostly hetero and therefore so is it's fanbase, if you have a problem with that, I suggest you click on something else. If you don't, keep reading, you might learn something new.  
> Cross posted on FF.net.

 

 

Allen is drifting, broken apart in a million different pieces and hovering, the individual shards of self floating and shifting aimlessly in a vast, endless black void; the pieces of his mind all replaying the events that had happened previously to get him in this state.

While in his cell under Black Order HQ, restrained magically with CROW restraints and chains, talking with Link, the thought:  _ could it be, that if I knew, things would change? _  And the 14th’s resurgence right then and there, heat and pain enveloping his body, consciousness wavering in a sea of black before his eyes.

Link’s concerned face before him. The door to the cell opening, a bespeckled man entering his cell, Link entrusting him to his care while some instinct inside Allen screamed,  _ No, don’t, danger-! _

The man, no the creature, plunging his hand into his arm, the CROW restraints breaking, his arm going haywire as the creature’s essence entered his arm, _ painpainpainrevulsionpain- _

Moments pass in ever quicker succession in the remains of Allen’s shattered mind: Link’s fall, defending him, how feathers had sprouted and shifted in his eyes.

Allen’s attack, body unable to move other than to stand, his horror as the man, the monster in the guise of a kindly bespeckled man, continued to stand with Allen’s cape piercing his head, talking to him,  _ ‘you don’t need to be afraid. You’re just going to become one with me.’ _

The chillingly calm voice.

Allen’s disgust and revulsion at the idea, but also his weakness, his chains binding him, his body in agony and weakened, his innocence unresponsive and difficult to control, Allen unable to fight back as the monster grabbed him and held him to his chest.

Then, the darkness lurking inside him  _ roared _ to the forefront, pushing Allen to the side and nearly swallowing him.

Anger and bloodlust leaked from the 14th to him, the 14th roared in outrage, attempting to summon the Ark while punching the monster and sending it back a few feet.

Something- went wrong. 

The rest of the CROW restraints on the walls of the room trying to hold back the power of the Ark, mostly failing.

Allen felt it as the warm bright power of the Ark, instead of materializing into a Gate, bubbled up inside of his chest instead.

It flooded his body with warm energy, filling his veins, nerves, muscles and bones to overflowing,  _ toomuchtoomuch _ , he felt as though he was going to burst.

He does.

His body, mind, and soul shattered into a million pieces, scattering from the material realm to someplace  _ in-between _ , a vast void-like space, endless darkness all around him.

He drifts, wafted by an invisible wind, the shattered and jagged pieces of his self amassed in roughly the same space shifting and sliding, bobbing in the ethereal wind, clanging together and then resonating with each other.

Allen has no idea how long he drifts like that, terrified he’ll be stuck like this forever, before all the individual pieces of him feel a pulling and rushing sensation, the pieces of himself clattering against each other and then clicking back into place as light rushes up to meet him-

-and his back hits a hard, grainy surface, all his senses slow to come back to him.

**\- oOXXOo -**

The first thing Allen’s newly pieced together senses register is the heat, and his heartbeat jumps in his chest,  _ he’s doing it again-! _ Before he realizes the heat is coming from outside of his body, not inside, beating down on him in a pervasive air, making him glad for once that he’s not wearing long sleeves.

The second thing he registers is a feeling: pain, encompassing and wrapping around his chest and shooting knives into his back, but at least they let him keep his binder while in the cell in the first place.

He ignores it, pushing the pain to the side and to the back of his mind, fading from his awareness.

_ Sometimes _ , Allen considers as he enjoys being corporeal again,  _ it’s sort of scary how I am so used to physical pain from the constant battles, that I can shove the pain to the side and ignore it to keep fighting.  _

_ It might even be dangerous, _ a voice whispers, _ after all, pain is there to let you know that something is wrong with your body. _

_ Dangerous and scary, but useful, _ he decides.

The third stimuli, his skin tells him, ground underneath him, grains of sand as he shifts invading his clothes and irritating skin.

Alarmed, Allen jerks up into a sitting position and opens his eyes.

His simple enjoyment of being a living being with 5 senses and flowing blood in his veins, instead of shattered pieces of himself in a horrible, empty space, is replaced by alarm as harsh light stabs into his eyes, causing them to water until he tilts his head and his eyes adjust.

The first thing he sees is sand.

He looks in another direction, seeing more sand, turns his head as far as it will go behind him: more sand.

Sand as far as he can see in all directions, vast, endless rolling hills of bright yellow sand, dotted with cacti and shrubbery, large sand dunes and tall juts of rock, dark with shadows in the distance, baking in the harsh sun.

_ Where the hell am I?! _

A wry voice answers,  _ In the middle of a desert, obviously. _

Allen freezes for a second, heart in his throat, before realizing that was his own thought, not the 14th’s.

Though that particular voice hadn’t spoken for a while, he had nearly forgotten about it, a guilty part of him hoping it would disappear altogether.

Rubbing his sore chest, Allen gets to his feet, looking around again at the vast expanse of sand in every direction, with the occasional spiky or prickly plant strewn in bunches or standing lonesome all throughout the dunes that he doesn’t feel like braving to try to eat, he’s not that desperate yet, he just had some of Jerry’s food given to him a little while ago.

(he thinks, though it’s hard to be sure how much time passed in that void-like space, but can he even digest food while in that space, when he didn’t have a stomach at the time?)

Attempting to gauge his direction by the position of the sun, like Master had tried to teach him when Allen frequently getting lost became too troublesome, but he’s lousy at it, and couldn’t remember how, couldn’t remember much of anything, the sun beating heat and confusion into his temples.

_ Did the sun rise from the East or the West? _

_ And how am I supposed to figure out how to go from there anyway? _

_ Or, wait, maybe it was actually the stars that you’re supposed to be able to navigate with? _

He finally gives up when his thoughts begin to run in circles like a stray and scraggly dog chasing it’s tail, picking a random direction to start walking in.

As he walks, or rather limps and struggles up and through sloping dunes of sand that were treacherous for feet to slog through at best, sand sinking and shifting under his scantily clad feet, the manacles around his ankles attached to chains dragging behind him hindering his progress further and clanking faintly as he walks.

Allen remembers, as he trudges up and down slopes, sand blowing into his eyes, the thought he’d had right before the 14th had resurged,  _ ‘could it be, that if I knew, things would change?’ _

_ Well, there’s only one way to find out about the 14th out here. _

He was nervous, but walking soon became monotonous and uncomfortable, heat beating down in waves sending sweat rolling down his skin and in between folds in his clothes, including his binder, sand blown into his clothes by the wind and sand grains glued to cloth with sweat scraping against skin and irritating the flesh, the desert sands unchanging around him making it seem he was making no headway in his forward trek.

So, carefully, hesitantly, he probed inside of himself as he had never tried to before, always trying to deny that anything was there, and ignore what was too blatantly obvious to  _ not _ notice, searching for the darkness lurking inside of him, asking a question in his mind as though addressed to someone there and feeling quite silly but terrified at the same time, why did he think this was a good idea again?

_ ‘14th? Are you there?’ _

Still feeling ridiculous  as he does so, hoping for and dreading and not really expecting an answer.

**_‘It’s_ ** **Neah** **_, you idiot! Or had you forgotten?’_ **

A voice snaps at him, resounding throughout his head, Allen loses the long strides he’d been taking, feet faltering, that last barb befuddling his already heat-addled mind because,  _ forgotten? _ That his feet get tripped up in a tangle of chains and stubbed toes as he stumbles over a rock and falls flat on his face into the sand, the fall making him close his eyes if not his mouth, still open in shock.

Wild laughter echoes around inside his mind as Allen levers himself onto his elbows, “Yeah, go ahead, laugh,” he grumbles sourly after spitting out a mouthful of sand, sand grains still gritted in his teeth. 

He then pauses as the 14th- Neah -pauses in his laughter to make a comment.

**_‘Nice,’_ **

He remarks, and keeps laughing, free and as if he hadn’t laughed in a long while.

This surprises Allen, the only thing he can really recall a Noah ever laughing about sincerely on hand was the harm of himself or others or other twisted things, Road coming to mind immediately as she giggles and licks a candle, sharpened point stained in Allen’s blood.

It shames him, that other people and even he himself can think of him as a kind person, when he can so easily judge a race of people so callously as to be surprised when one of them  _ isn’t  _ laughing about blood and death.

And most of the time he thinks he is a kind person, outwardly at least, his mask of kindness enough to fool even himself over time, until moments like these when he  _ remembers _ , that years ago, before, well, before Mana, he had been a very different person, and that that person was sometimes still prevalent at his core, staining his judgement and perceptions at times.

_ But it’s all just a construct _ , a voice whispers,  _ a mask, something you crafted and grew into over time. _

Pushing those thoughts aside as the last of Neah’s chuckles subside, Allen replies. 

_ ‘Neah, then. What do you mean by ‘forgotten?’ This is only the second time we’ve talked.’ _

The 14th is silent, then, it feels like Lavi hits him with his hammer, he falls back heavily from where he’d crouched back on his knees, ears ringing, the skin that he can see darkening to dusky grey, the world spinning, heat smothering him from the inside out as his vision darkens.

Recognizing what is happening as heat knifes through his body and his whole left arm throbs from shoulder to fingertips, Allen gasps out frantically, “N-neah, w-wait, I thought, I th-th-thought w-w-we…” 

But he trails off as his mind begins to fuzz and cloud, only sensing the 14th’s anger as a dark force rifles through his mind, sending it spinning, and dizzying waves of nausea stab through his gut, Allen barely able to keep his previous food down, fighting to stay conscious.

Then suddenly, everything stops, the world jolting back into place and rushing back to him.

Allen gasps in relief as the dark purplish aura hanging above slowly dissipates, dusky grey retreating from his skin, the burning in his body and throbbing in his arm slowly ease and stop, Allen gasping in breath after panicked breath as his stomach settles and begins to grumble in protest, and Allen’s breathing evens out.

Allen staggers to his feet, legs shaky and weak, and that’s when he realizes he’s surrounded.


	2. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warns for violence, gore, and vomiting. Thanks to everyone who kudos'ed so far!  
> Enjoy!

 

 

_ Akuma? _ Allen questions, moving into a ready stance, even as his eye continues to not react, and in fact had not registered their approach.

Unless the Earl had devised a new way to trick Allen’s eye, logic states that these were normal humans and that he should relax, that these people might even know a quick route out of the desert.

_ But… there’s something off. _

Not just the way these people stood, with a fighter’s stance and confidence, but the way they  _ looked _ at him, like predators observing trapped prey.

And that’s what he’s beginning to feel like, six wolves penning in a sheep for the kill.

_ But I don’t need to act like one, _ Allen realizes, _ and if there’s a way to prevent violence, then… _

Allen relaxes his body in as obvious a way as he can manage while still staying ready for an attack, and pierces the aura of violence permeating the air with a polite, “Hello. How are all of you this evening?”

Punctuating this with a polite smile and a tilt of the head, though in all honesty he’s actually not very sure what time of day it is.

The people in his line of vision tilt their heads or narrow their eyes, Allen tucking a stray lock of over-long white hair out of his eyes while keeping a pleasant expression on his face.

Mutterings resound back and forth through the group surrounding him, too quiet for Allen to pick up, even with his sharp ears, but the confusion and anger in the tones of their voices easy enough to read.

A few of the ones in front of him glance at a tall lanky one with tattered and faded clothes, though, Allen notices, they’re  _ all _ rather thin and unkempt, as well. 

_ Just how long have they been in this desert? _

Looking at the black stains on their clothes, he muses with a sick foreboding in his gut, a _ nd what have they been doing to survive? _

The tall lanky one that some of the others had looked to calls out to him, the words guttural and sharp, and Allen doesn’t understand a word of it.

Which is unusual, because he’s been to a lot of different countries with Master and had picked up a lot of different languages along the way, and what the man had just said sounded like none of them.

He supposes it could be a dead language.

But what do they expect of him, from that?

Only one way to find out, he just hopes he doesn’t have the wrong answer, but if it is about wrong or right answers, he has a bad feeling.

He says, politely and formally, false smile on his face, “I apologize, but I do not know what language that is. Do you, perhaps, speak English?”

Which he is pretty certain they do, he can see the comprehension in their eyes when he speaks to him.

**_‘I don’t like this.’_ **

Neah whispers, as if they could hear him somehow from the confines of Allen’s mind.

Allen, still feeling angry and suspicious of him for him just trying to take him over and erase him again, when they were just beginning to talk, wants to make a stinging reply, but now really isn’t the time to make another enemy, especially one that’s currently inside his head and could cause a lot of problems for him. 

So he listens to him, instead of ignoring him like he wants to.

**_‘They’re going to attack. We need to strike first.’_ **

Neah’s caution and battle tension drifts into Allen’s attention, as well as his… concern?

_ Why would he be concerned? _

_ Also, ‘we’? _

Anger forgotten, hope blooms.

_ Maybe… _

**_‘It’s my body too!’_ **

Neah snaps, which Allen wants to protest to, an automatic, instinctive feeling of denial explodes in his mind.

**_‘Whatever! Stop daydreaming and focus! Aren’t you an Exorcist? Pay attention when you’re about to be attacked, and attack first!’_ **

_ ‘But, they aren’t Akuma.’ _ Allen protests.

_ ‘Their souls aren’t trapped inside killing machines and suffering, in need to be saved. I don’t want to hurt innocent humans! I don’t want to fight them, they don’t need salvation!’ _

_ They’re not even Noah, as hard as fighting them was for me at first, _ he adds, privately, he 

hopes.

**_‘Akuma or not, I don’t think it matters to them.’_ **

Allen’s attention snaps back to the people surrounding him, eyes angry and suspicious, and then, something weird happens, odd, even classified as supernatural in Allen’s book.

The tall, lanky one’s eyes fall upon Allen’s blackened left arm, blatantly exposed because of his prison clothes, and then, he takes a deep breath in through his nose.

Fury and hate seems to transform his face, and Allen realizes it’s not his imagination when he sees the man’s pupils have turned bone white, sclera flooding blood red with dark veins running through them.

_ What the…?! _

“Innocence…” he hisses, and Allen feels his body freeze in place with those terrifying eyes on him.

**_‘Shit!’_ **

Neah swears, and Allen can feel him struggle against something.

Before Allen can ask- which he really shouldn’t be focusing on right now, like Neah says, and he  _ knows _ that, he  _ knows _ one inattentive moment in battle can be life-threatening, he’s just not used to having someone  _ in his head _ and  _ talking _ while all this is going on -the man  _ changes _ .

Fur and muscle and bone grow and break like a wave over his body, hundreds of sickening snapping noises sound through the desert air, and then a mountain lion  _ where the man once was _ stands with bone white and blood red eyes, and  _ roars _ .

More breaking and stomach churning meaty sounds echo in his ears, and Allen’s horrified eyes are snapped off of the lion-who-used-to-be-a-man-what-the-hell, and his eyes take in the brown bear, puma, and half-man-half-wolf transformations before he tries to look behind him.

But his neck won’t turn, no, his whole body refuses to respond!

Like he’s frozen in fear in his first fight against an akuma.

Except no matter how hard he struggles, no matter how much Neah screams at him to  **_Move, move Dammit!_ ** , as time seems to slow and the creatures rush towards him, mouths open, claws poised to rip and rend- claws!

Feeling hope blossom, _ Innocence, Activate! _

The warm green light suffuses him as his arm activates, hot soft green light runs down his left arm, long metal claws forming to come up and sluggishly block the puma and bat her to the side.

His glowing white cloak now resting snug on his shoulders, moving it with his will he throws the two coming up behind him backwards. 

Allen spins on his heel and blocks the teeth and claws of the bear and mountain lion as best he can, one swipe of the bear’s claws that gets past Allen’s guard that Allen leans away from leaves small stinging lines of red across his abdomen instead of ripping his stomach open like the bear intends.

But he’s forgotten one more, the man-wolf goes for his eyes and stomach with each clawed hand, Allen bends over backwards to avoid it, but misjudges something.

Part of it is that he’s still trying not to seriously injure them, while they are trying to kill him, and part of it must be that he’s still affected by whatever had happened earlier, his movements slower than normal and almost sluggish, a wave of dizziness hits him and he staggers mid-dodge, falling to his knees as he loses his balance,  _ shitshitshit-! _

A flurry of fur, fangs, claws, and death rushes for him all around him, Allen tries to move, to dodge and evade, to  _ block _ , but shaky weakness enters his limbs at just the wrong moment and he can barely move them at all.

**_‘Sorry, Al.’_ ** He thinks he hears someone say, and then he feels as though he is pushed to the side forcibly, not physically but mentally, he watches from the back of his own mind as Neah, Neah  _ in control of his body _ , opens his mouth, and  _ screams _ .

The scream is shrill and high, long and loud, and it blasts the creatures around them backwards in an explosion of sound, the ones directly in front of the blast obliterated into bloody bits of matter and meat that flies everywhere.

_ No Akuma skeletons _ , Allen notes calculatingly, his feelings far away from the rest of him as Neah fades from consciousness, and Allen finds himself blinking his own eyes again, eyes still on the bloody sight before him.

His sharp ears pick up the sound of skittering on the sand behind him, he spins around, clawed hand at the ready.

Bloody, bruised, and bleeding from the ears the polar bear and maned lion might be, but they still snarl and rush him.

Allen’s mind is crystal clear and yet oddly, free of all emotions as he meets their attacks with his own.

His clawed hand and cloak cut and rend, he meets them blow for bloody, dirty blow as the creatures regenerate quickly and get back up seconds after a fatal or near-fatal blow for most beings, not giving him a break in the exchange.

He finally extends the razor sharp ends of his cloak as they both charge at him once more, cutting off the bloodstained heads from the necks and carving the rest off of the polar bear when the cloak doesn’t quite finish the job, standing ready as the bodies slump and lose momentum, waiting for them to get back up.

When after five minutes they fail to get up or make a sign of movement, Allen relaxes, adrenaline leaving his body and leaving him drained, he slumps to the bloodstained sand and deactivates his innocence.

Staring blearily at his left arm, now painted red up past his elbow, he shifts his eyes from that sight, nausea swirling in his gut, and his eyes meet the open eyes of the polar bear, eyes staring blankly back and beginning to glaze over- he throws up.

Jerry’s cooking doesn’t taste nearly as good the second time around.

                                                                   --oOXXOo-- 

Allen stumbles away from the battle zone, the- bodies, bodies that had lingered, not exploded, nor turned to dust after the Akuma virus, just laying there, dead,  _ because of him _ .

_ I killed them, Ikilledthem, they’re dead! _

_ It was self-defense! _ A small, feeble voice protests.

_ There had to have been another way, there had to be-! _

Allen stumbles to the ground, confused and sickened tears in his eyes, drying blood itchy on his left arm- 

_ (-four inch long metal claws, plunging into an animal ribcage and then out again, white cloak slashing at the other and chopping off limbs and half a face, claws, arm, and white cloak drenched in red, not black akuma oil, the smell of iron burned into his nostrils-) _

-he  _ feelssickfeelssickfeelssick. _

Nothing but bile and tears come up this time, streaming down his face as self-loathing and misery fills him, because,  _ they were human, no matter what else they were, they didn’t need to die, their souls hadn’t been in pain or suffering, living beings not in need of being destroyed, of being  _ _ saved _ -anger-at himself, self-hate _ , howcouldIhowcouldIhowcould- _

Allen slumps to the ground, nasty claw marks on his side, across his cheek, bites on his thigh and right arm and calf where pieces of flesh had been ripped out by violent fangs- and eaten, he remembered.

These wounds that he really should care about but doesn’t, some of them are bleeding quite a lot, but he can’t find it in himself to try to treat them, to care about his own well-being, the confusion, the anger, the self-hate.

_ He should just- _

_ He should just- _

_ ‘How long are you going to lay there being all pathetic like that?’ _ A voice asks.

Allen opens his eyes and looks up, the world changed, cobblestones underneath him, in front of him that lake reflecting that broken world, an encroaching forest of dead trees, greedy fingers reaching up toward the black sky with the white half-moon overhead.

And standing over him, a kid version of himself with reddish brown hair, deformed red arm and irritated expression on his face.

_ Red. _

Allen gets up off of the cobbled ground, wounds disappeared for the moment, and asks, “Why am I here?” His voice thick with tears still.

Red scoffs, stating,  _ “Trying to make you see sense. You, who used to not be so phased by death. Accidents will happen in the circus, and people died of famine on the streets every day, this didn’t used to bother you. Or, me, I suppose.” _

“But- I killed them! I murdered them, they weren’t Akuma!”

Red sighs and turns sharp mercury eyes on him. _ “And so when Kanda killed Alma, that was murder?” _

Allen bristles, “That was self-defense! If he hadn’t, Alma would have killed him! It’s not like he  _ wanted- _ ” 

Allen cuts off, flashes of memory that weren’t his passing through his mind.

_ “Isn’t that the same thing that just happened to you?” _ Red cuts in, and Allen pauses, remembering the conversation, and misery fills him once again.

“No. No, that was- different.” Feeling sickness churn in his stomach.

Red rubs his temples with his small hands, clearly still irritated but trying to hold his patience. 

_ “How?” _

“It just was!” Allen snaps back, not really thinking but so _ sure _ . 

Red sighs, small hand falling to his sides and balling into fists, he yells, small childish voice cracking,  _ “You need to let it go!” _

Allen opens his mouth to retaliate, then stops, confused, “‘It’?” He questions Red.

Red glares at the ground, a lost child angry at the world,  _ “I don’t want to ask you to do this, ‘Allen’. You constructed yourself, after Mana’s death, and split off from me, ‘Red’, and at first you were just a mask, but over time you became real, as hard as it is for me to accept that.” _

He pauses, then continues,  _ “You did this to deal with Mana’s death,  _ we _ did, I guess, to cope. But Allen, you need to let these things go, the morals and traits that are weakening you, making you vulnerable and not letting you accept the facts. You need to do this, to survive, to-” _ he meets Allen’s eyes, twin pools of mercury meeting in their gaze,  _ “-to keep walking.” _

The familiar words hit Allen like a lightning bolt, breaking him out of his misery and self-hate.

He considers for a moment, then reaches up into himself, pulling out strands he had used to define himself, define, ‘Allen’, what had kept holding him back from seeing the reality of the situation and led him to be ruled by his emotions.

Allen pulls out silky translucent scraps of unperceptiveness, ignorance, naivety, and obliviousness, and his optimistic attitude, letting the strands fall to the ground and fade away, the dreamscape shaking and wavering as Allen accepts the reality of the situation, before settling around them again.

_ “Now, what were their deaths?” _ Red asks expectantly.

“Necessary,” Allen replies, throat still tight on the words, because kindness and sentiment and sympathy are still core fundamentals in his personality, “ Self-defense.” 

As Allen’s perception sharpens to the state it had been when he was a suspicious little kid living off the streets and dodging the beatings of Cosimo, Allen’s head snaps to the side, he asks, “How long have you been watching?”

The 14th, Neah, steps out of the forest of dead trees, unruly and spiky dark hair moving in an almost imperceptive wind off the trees, faint unreadable smile on his face.

**_“Long enough,”_ ** Neah says with a grin, hands stuffed into the pockets of his trench coat, looking at Red in curiousity.

**_“I had no idea it was_ ** **so crowded** **_in here.”_ ** He says sarcastically, but still with that grin, as if, playfully?

_ “Crowded enough already without  _ you _ here as well.” _ Red growls hostilely, leaning forward with his hands fisted at his sides and a glare on his face.

Allen is about to add something, when he stumbles, feeling faint.

Neah looks up, sardonic grin on his face.  **_“Looks like the waking world is calling you back.”_ **

He shades his golden eyes with a hand, as the dreamscape fades around him, Neah’s last words addressed to him, as if from far away, echo in his ears. 

**_“And is that- Tim?”_ **

Allen opens his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the next chapter. I probably won't be able to get them out as fast, with school coming up and my poor health to consider as well, making it very difficult to write anything, so I can't really promise any sort of update schedule, sorry. I will keep posting, though, probably just sporadically.  
> Also, this was my first first-kill scene, I tried to keep it accurate with Allen's character, I think I did... alright?


	3. Timcanpy, and Explosions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since I have an idea of where this story is going now, here’s the third chapter, sorry for the wait. Can’t think of any trigger warnings for this chapter, mostly just setting up plot, angst, and fluff, so enjoy!

Allen opens his eyes- only for a golden blur to impact with his left eyeball, pushing it back into it’s socket.

“AUGH!” Allen yells, clapping his hand to his hurting and watering eye.

Blinking his remaining uncovered eye, he sees- “Timcanpy!”

A golden ball with feathered wings, a cross on it’s face, and twin horns on it’s head, he snags it out of the air, hurting eye forgotten, “Tim- you’re here, I was sure I left you back in the dungeon-!” He babbles, holding the golem close to his face, slightly teary eyed.

Then, “Ow!” as Tim bites his hand and growls, pointed teeth bared, then bites his hand again, drawing blood this time, escaping Allen’s grasp.

“Tim, what-?” Timcanpy flaps his wings to hover over the sand before his nubby appendages grow and he lands, and points with his swirled tail at the bleeding cuts in his side.

“Oh. My wounds… Thanks, Tim.”

He had gotten so used to ignoring the pain of his wounds that he had forgotten about them altogether. Oops.

Activating Crown Clown, Allen uses Clown Belt for makeshift bandages, and after a start of surprise, at what Allen’s not sure, Tim helps him wrap the endless glowing bandages around his side and various other wounds, grabbing the fabric in his teeth and flying careful circles around him where Allen himself can’t reach.

“Thanks, Tim.” Allen thanks the golem, holding out a hand as he pulls on his pants from where he’d put them when they started wrapping the wounds on his legs.

Tim alights on his outstretched fingertips and nods, giving him a toothy grin.

Looking at his left outstretched arm with a start, Allen sees that it’s still caked in dried blood.

_ Necessary _ , Allen reminds himself, as he stoops down, after Tim sets off from his hand to flap  around Allen’s head excitedly, to scoop up a handful of sand and scrub it against his left arm, scouring off the blood.

_ Now, how to get out of this desert. _

Allen starts, then, realization dawning, slaps his hand against his forehead, groaning despairingly at his own stupidity. 

_ How could I have forgotten about the Ark? That would be the simplest and easiest way to get out of here! And it’s not like Link’s here to stop me.  _

But in the middle of reciting the melody’s lyrics in his head, index finger placed to his forehead in concentration, Neah pipes up, breaking his focus.

**_‘Stop, idiot!’_ **

Allen starts, exclaiming aloud, “What? Why!” Tim, who had been resting on his shoulder, looks at him askance. 

“It’s nothing, Tim.” Allen excuses himself nervously, then, at Timcanpy’s judging-you air, “And stop looking at me like that!” Tim, if he had a face that could make expressions, would be looking skeptical at the moment.

Meanwhile, inside Allen’s head, Neah continues.

**_‘Idiot, do you really think using the Ark is the brightest idea at the moment? After it malfunctioned and brought us here in a way_ ** **I** **_have never used it before?’_ **

Allen frowns,  _ wasn’t that because of the CROW restraints in the room? _

**_‘Maybe.’_ **

Neah responds to his thoughts yet again. Jeez was that still creepy.

**_‘But now, the sensations I’ve been getting from the Ark are… strange.’_ **

_ ‘Sensations?’ _

Allen asks, because what is Neah talking about? Allen’s never gotten any sort of ‘sensations’ from the Ark before.

**_‘You wouldn’t have yet. You’re newly bonded to it, this sort of thing comes with time.’_ **

At Allen’s continued puzzlement, Neah explains in more detail.

**_‘To put it simply, the Ark has a sort of sentience, though one that is hard to understand at times. And as it’s Master I have a spiritual connection with this sentience. From this, I can gain a sort of ‘sense’ or feeling of how the Ark is doing.’_ **

_ ‘Okay…’  _

Allen replies, not finding this that hard to believe, that eerie feeling of ancientness, serenity, and all-knowingness he had gotten when he had first stepped into the Ark after regaining his innocence finally making a bit more sense.

_ ‘So, how is the Ark feeling?’ _

**_‘Bad.’_ **

Neah replies, his voice grim.

**_‘Weak, and drained, weak enough that it would be dangerous for you to use it without causing us harm, and… distant somehow, as if very far away, which makes no sense but- anyway, I think we need to find another means of getting out of here.’_ **

Allen lets out an irritated huff, and after asking  _ how dangerous _ silently acquiesces, being drained of life energy to power the Ark does not sound like a good time to him, maybe if he’s feeling desperate but… just, no. 

_ ‘So, any ideas?’ _

**_‘Well, the sun rises in the east, just so you know, and I think-’_ **

Allen’s stomach growls like an angry Kanda or some vicious, man-eating monster, interrupting Neah mid-thought.

**_‘-you should try one of those cactus plants for some nutrients.’_ **

Neah finishes, amusement in his tone.

Allen does, using his left hand to bypass the worst of the prickles, inspecting some light green spiky leaves, before eating them, along with the flowers and the odd pink fruits on top that were the best part, the rest rather bland and oddly textured with not a lot of taste.

_ But I’m not complaining. Or rather I am- _

“But  _ Neah! _ ” Allen whines aloud, much to Tim’s surprise, then, flapping his wings with barely contained excitement to make a beeline to both of his beloved masters. 

The whining resulting from after Allen has eaten the first plant, because he wants to dive into the next patch of them eagerly, his growling stomach urging him on.

**_‘No. You’ll wait at least thirty minutes for the next one to be sure it isn’t_ ** **poisonous** **_.’_ **

_ ‘Ten minutes.’ _

Allen bargains, because while waiting to make sure it isn’t poisonous is a sound idea, his stomach is currently ruling most parts of his brain functions at the moment, ruling out rational reasoning in the all consuming hunger emanating from Allen’s stomach.

_ More food _ , he hears it demand insistently with a grumble,  _ more food! _

**_‘Twenty-five.’_ **

Neah shoots back, and the argument and odd-almost-playful banter that ensues stalls him for a good twenty five minutes, which he’s sure is what Neah intended.

After that, Allen polishes off at least ten more plants of that kind, along with picking all of the odd strawberry tasting spined-at-first berries off of this weird shrub-like cacti that remind him oddly of mistletoe with their shape and red berries. 

(He could have had more of the berries, if it weren’t for Tim swooping down and taking them out of his hands to crunch down after he’d cleared them of the spines, though it’s hard to stay mad at him for that, Tim should get to eat too, even if he doesn’t need to.)

After all of that, the sun is almost setting, in the west, Allen now knows, and while Neah tells him he knows some of how to navigate by the stars, Allen is too tired from the day’s events to try.

Finding shelter in the jut of an overhanging rock sticking out of a sand dune, Allen lays on the sand after having taken off his binder to sleep, using it balled up as a sort of pillow, as poor a pillow as it makes, anyway, along with his arm under his head.

“Keep watch, Tim.” Allen whispers to the golem as he settles on Allen’s sternum, tail tucked around him as the sun sinks below the horizon, because while his newly enhanced senses hadn’t sensed anything but desert wildlife, he could never be too careful after a day like today, and Tim, being a golem and made by Cross,  _ can _ sleep but doesn’t  necessarily need to.

Closing his eyes, what he’d been distracting himself from thinking about all day, the people he’d killed flash before his eyes, he snaps them open again, heart racing in his chest, breathing coming out in fast and uneven gasps, Timcanpy nuzzles against Allen’s neck in reassurance, Allen’s heart slows as he deliberately slows down his breathing, he shuts his eyes again.

_ -flashes of blood flying off of fangs and claws, the sands below the battling figures bathed in red, animal fur caked and dripping red, flesh regrowing and stitching itself back together grotesquely, red, red, red, his own metallic clawed hand whirling blood in a crimson arch as he slashes down- _

Allen jerks in his sleep, trying to push the images away-

_ -fogged, glazed over eyes gazing into his, unseeing- _

**_“Allen.”_ **

A warm hand on his shoulder, Allen blinks, takes a deep breath, a sweet smell filling his nostrils.

Golden fields of wheat surround him, wheat stalks waving and weaving softly in the gentle wind.

He looks into the amber eyes of Neah, laying across from him in a soft pile of wheat and hay, hand feather-light on his shoulder, eyes and smile… concerned?

Or was he imagining that?

A great sadness and grief mixed together with anger suddenly hits him, swirling through his body and overwhelming his own thoughts, and thoughts that weren’t his dropping on him like stones, - _ he still doesn’t trust me.  _

_ Well, what do you expect, he thinks you’re enemies!  _

_ It hurts, I miss him, I miss them both so much.  _

_ Dammit, damn him, why did he have to change? _

_ What did he do to him?! _

_ Where did he go?!  _

_ Where has my brother gone? _ -

Before cutting off abruptly, the sudden lack of bombardment leaving Allen dizzy.

**_“Sorry.”_ **

Neah says, eyes shining with something unreadable and smile slightly pained, **_“It’s harder to block, my thoughts off from yours, when you’re in here with me.”_ **   
  


_ Those thoughts were his-? Mana…  _   
  


Feeling his eyes soften, Allen asks, less wary than before, “Where is here?”

Neah tilts his head consideringly, unruly dark hair falling across amber eyes before he cards it out of his eyes, though not very successfully. 

_ Seriously, what is with his hair…? _ Allen wonders,  _ it looks as fluffy and spiky as Road’s in the back and yet as unruly as Tyki’s at the same time… _

Neah answers, mouth quirking up in amusement, obviously hearing Allen’s thought, darn it,  **_“My Dreamscape, or the section of our mind that is mine.”_ **

Allen tilts his head too, and furrows his brows, “You brought me here?” Not really a question, since Neah seemed to be right next to him when he first got here and hadn’t been surprised to see him, either. 

Small suspicions begin to take seed in his mind, whispering,  _ am I in his power here? What’s his plan? If he has one… _

Neah sighs, breath puffing up dark bangs,  **_“Well,_ ** **I’m sorry** **_if I just really didn’t want to witness another one of your self-loathing downward spirals!”_ **

Allen bristles at the biting sarcasm and hostility in the Noah’s voice,  _ and how could he forget, the 14th wasn’t a friend, he was a Noah, an enemy- _

The thought stops dead in it’s tracks when he senses the feelings from the 14th that aren’t his, concern, hurt at the thought he’d just had, the emotion so fleeting as the 14th, no, Neah, tries to shelter and hide it from him, but Allen still senses when the emotion is covered up and converted into blinding anger.

Fury twists Neah’s face, his previously pale skin spreading tan and dusky grey, holy marks appearing on his forehead.

The sky darkens, thunderclouds rumbling angrily, the wind picks up, throwing Allen’s and Neah’s hair about as Neah stands, anger in every line of his body, Allen tries to stand himself, but finds his feet tangled up in wheat stalks as strong and restraining as chains.

They drag him to his knees, wrapping around him and restraining his body, Neah in front of him, hands outstretched, golden eyes burning with- ragerage-hurt-rage-destroydestroy-kill-rendtear-destroyDESTROY.

Dark Matter bubbles out from his extended hands, purple and black and midnight blue- expands- Allen’s eyes widen as he then shuts his eyes and waits for the devastating blow, struggles halting as he realizes, _ I deserve this. _

The sound of movement makes him snaps his eyes open, to see Neah, spinning on his heel away from Allen as the destructive Dark Matter blasts outwards, decimating the field of wheat twenty yards back and leaving a large gouge in the earth.

Neah sits down next to his newly wrought destruction, Allen slumping bonelessly to the ground as the wheat chains binding him suddenly release their hold.

Allen gets up cautiously, but no wheat or any other surroundings assault him or anything else like that. 

Just-  _ sadness. Sadness. Shame. Anger. Loneliness. _ -feelings softly suffusing the air.

Feelings that Neah isn’t bothering to hide from him, or perhaps can’t Allen supposes, with how angry Neah is feeling- at himself, Allen realizes.

Small seeds of suspicion still rattle at him, lessened but not forgotten, and Allen doubts that they will leave easily, or if that is something he should or would want; Neah is trying to devour him, after all, to take over his body.

But with that first doubt about all of that hate he had put upon a person he had never even  _ met _ , Allen couldn’t really go back to just blindly hating Neah.

And the way Neah had responded as soon as he had called out to him, as if,  _ waiting _ for him.

And the way they had fallen easily into an alliance without any discussion, naturally, almost.

And the fact that even aware and fully awake and talking, Neah had only tried to take over his body twice, not counting the other times when they hadn’t yet spoken to each other, Neah had only fully taken over to protect them both, when Allen couldn’t.

(And Allen was still here.)

With all these facts, as well as the thought that this was Mana’s brother,  _ his _ Mana, Noah or not, Allen walks over to Neah’s side and sits next to him, breaching the heavy silence with, “I’m sorry.” 

Neah looks at him, eyes unreadable, and with his dark skin and holy marks across his forehead he was hard to look at, but Allen forced himself to meet his eyes, because for all that his face was unreadable, his emotions were clear as if spelled out in the sky.

_ Sadness. Regret. Loneliness. Self-anger. Sadness. _ At Allen’s words:  _ Hope. _

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, trying to let Neah feel how sincere he was.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, it’s just…”

He forces the rest of the words out, as much as it would be easier to lie and smooth things over, with being in each other’s heads, he can’t really. Neah would see right through it.

“It’s just… really hard to trust you… not because of anything you’ve done, just that I don’t know you, and you’re a Noah.”

_ And Noahs are supposed to be enemies. _

_ And even the Noahs I do know I definitely don’t trust not to kill me. _

_ And he’s in my head, he knows everything I think and feel, I can’t make any plans against him without him knowing about it. _

_ And he can kill me, make me disappear, any time he feels like it, and is killing me, slowly but surely. _

_ Like a poison. _

Neah flinches a bit, at that last thought, Allen realizes,  _ and dammit, I was trying to apologize, not make him angry again or make him feel worse! _

Allen puts a fist to his forehead in frustration, about to try to apologize again when Neah smiles, small and sad, and says,  **_“I’m sorry too.”_ **

Allen blinks, mouth open in shock,  _ what does he have to be sorry for? _

Neah’s smile becomes bitter.

**_“I remember what my first kill was like. It was horrible. And my inner Noah enjoyed it, which somehow made it worse. I knew what it was like, and I also know what a gentle soul you are, so I brought you here to try to help.”_ **

Neah closes his eyes and breathes deeply of the wheat and earth scented air.

And it began to rain, raindrops warm and soothing on Allen’s skin as they fell.

**_“I’ve always loved the rain,”_ ** Neah comments, smile more genuine as he gazes up toward the weeping sky, before looking at Allen and continuing, **_“And then I took offense at something you’d thought, not said, that I shouldn’t have been listening to in the first place, as you had no idea how to block me from seeing your thoughts. It was… wrong of me to invade your privacy like that. I can help with building mental walls, if you like.”_ **

Gold-amber eyes side eying him, hair and shoulders speckled darker by the rainshower, Allen blinked, shocked again, it doesn’t make sense to lose tactical advantage to a potential enemy, that dusky tan skin and marked forehead eerie in the rain- but even as he thinks that, the grey retreats from Neah’s skin and the holy marks close up and fade away on his forehead, Neah looking at him questioningly.

Allen nods, smile a little forced but still real.

**_“And instead of helping you like I intended, I got overly angry over something trivial, and impulsively tried to kill you.”_ **

Neah sighs, then continues,  **_“I’ve always had a bit of a temper, being Noah just makes it worse, takes all the negative emotions to the extreme. Mom taught me, if you’re angry at someone but don’t want to hurt them, or want to hurt them but know you shouldn’t, break_ ** **something** **_instead of_ ** **somebody** **_.”_ **

Allen is silent for a moment, thoughtful, picking apart Neah’s explanation.

Then, he protests, “That wasn’t my first kill.”

He’d destroyed plenty of Akuma, did that not count to the Noah or something…?

**_“First human kill,”_ ** Neah corrects himself, then, at Allen’s confused look,  **_“humans are different from Akuma. They think, they feel things other than bloodlust and hate, you don’t hate the humans like you hate the Akuma, and you aren’t saving their souls when you kill them.”_ **

Neah pauses, considering, then goes on at Allen’s slightly offended look,  **_“But you don’t hate the Akuma like the other Exorcists do. And the seeing their souls bit probably made it even worse for you. Most Exorcists don’t care about the souls, y’know? So when you destroy and Akuma, you are spared the guilt of destroying a life, because those Akuma weren’t living, they were suffering, and destroying them saved their souls as well as protecting any humans that might live around it.”_ **

Neah gives Allen an approving smile, as if he understands Allen’s views and hates the existence of Akuma as much a Allen does.

He starts talking again,  **_“Not so with a human kill. And whatever those people were, they were still people. Still with aspirations, hopes, and dreams, that now can never be. And when you end that, it hurts you, damages you, inside.”_ **

Amber eyes sympathetic, Neah goes on,  **_“The response you had was a very_ ** **human** **_one.”_ **

At these words, Allen’s first thought is,  _ oh… _ Something balled up tight and painful in his chest loosening as wetness begins to fall from his eyes as well as the sky.

Neah grabs him by the shoulder and pulls Allen into a comforting embrace, Allen’s head against Neah’s chest and Neah’s hand running across his forehead and through his hair repetitively in a comforting motion that is just so  _ Mana _ , when a refusing-to-cry-but-failing Red had had a nightmare about Cosimo or the Orphanage, that it makes Allen cry harder.

And the sky cries with him, rain falling down around them and upon their huddled forms, until Allen’s tears abate, and the rain lessens and stops, clouds rapidly clearing to part and show a dark canvas dotted with an array of bright stars, the full moon looking down at them from above.

Allen sits up and wipes his eyes, now sitting shoulder to shoulder with Neah, and yawns, tired and worn out after that emotional onslaught, asking, “‘Mom’?”

He’s intensely curious about Mana’s mother, but he’s afraid to ask, what if he doesn’t like what the answer is? Though it’s hard to believe that Mana’s mother was a bad person.

Neah’s amber eyes soften as he looks into memory.  **_“Kaarina. Our mother. A gentle, and very kind person. We both loved her… so much. She was a lot like you, you know.”_ **

Allen yawns again, a jaw popping one, who knew you could be tired in Dreamscapes?

Remembering Neah’s earlier comment, he quirks a brow. “A gentle soul? Really?” He gets that Neah was trying to make him feel better, but really?

Neah laughs, and smirks, pushing his shoulder.  **_“Well you are! Such a softie.”_ **

Allen is about to retort  when another yawn breaks open his jaw, Neah’s smirk grows wider as he gently pushes Allen down, teasing, **_“Go to sleep, gentle soul, the rest can wait until morning.”_ **

As Allen falls back a bed forms under him, warm and soft, Neah tucking the covers around him.

A memory, faded and near formless, floats up to the forefront of Allen’s consciousness.

_ “Hey Neah, will you sing me a song?” _

As if to answer this memory, Neah begins to sing, the melody so familiar to both of them soothing to Allen’s ears.

 

**_“Soshite Bouya wa Nemuri ni Tsuita_ **

**_Ikizuku Hai no Naka no Honoo, Hitotsu, Futatsu to_ **

**_Ukabu Fukurami Itoshii Yokogao_ **

**_Daichi ni Taruru Ikusen no Yume, Yume_ **

**_Gin no Hitomi no Yuragu Yoru ni_ **

**_Umare Ochita Kagayaku Omae, Ikuoku no Toshitsuki ga_ **

**_Ikutsu Inori wo Tsuchi e Kaesshitemo_ **

**_Watashi wa Inori Tsuzukeru_ **

**_Douka Konoko ni ai wo_ **

**_Tsunaida te ni Kisu wo.”_ **

And Allen fancies, as his eyes grow heavy and his body begins to feel weightless, that he can even hear the piano music that goes along with the lyrics. 

**_“Soshite Bouya wa Nemuri ni Tsuita_ **

**_Ikizuku Hai no Naka no Honoo, Hitotsu, Futatsu to_ **

**_Ukabu Fukurami Itoshii Yokogao_ **

**_Daichi ni Taruru Ikusen no Yume, Yume_ **

**_Gin no Hitomi no Yuragu Yoru ni_ **

**_Umare Ochita Kagayaku Omae, Ikuoku no Toshitsuki ga_ **

**_Ikutsu Inori wo Tsuchi e Kaesshitemo_ **

**_Watashi wa Inori Tsuzukeru_ **

**_Douka Konoko ni ai wo_ **

**_Tsunaida te ni Kisu wo_ **

**_Watashi wa Inori Tsuzukeru_ **

**_Douka Konoko ni ai wo_ **

**_Tsunaida te ni Kisu wo.”_ **

 

As Allen drifts off to sleep he hears the last of Neah’s words to him,  **_“Hey, Allen, do you mind if I call you ‘Nephew’?”_ **

Allen shakes his head, and nods off to sleep.

**-oOXXOo-**

Allen wakes to the sun in his eyes and the growling of his stomach, and gets up, shaking his binder free of sand before donning it and putting on his shirt again, really wishing for some long sleeves and gloves instead of this prison garb.

He pries off the manacles around his ankles, tired of how they were chafing against his legs, having an easy time of it with his left arm.

He treats himself to a breakfast of plants, trying to stick to the same ones that Neah is pretty sure would have poisoned them by now if they were deadly.

Then he submits himself to a day of walking, not as monotonous as before with Tim and Neah to talk to but still quite boring.

When he settles down for the night, he swears the sand glitters almost like snow with sunlight or moonlight shining on it, but with an odd greenish tint to the grains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And chapter end! Sorry for the delay, I had a lot of stuff going on along with my illness that were detrimental to even typing it up because I was so depressed, mainly, getting sicker because of a med change and dropping out of school. Which is a good thing, because with my anxiety I was not going to do well, and now I can take online writing courses to improve my writing!  
> Also, in case you were wondering, the plants I described are actual plants that exist in the real world and in actual deserts somewhere, I did some research when I got this idea and looked up edible plants in the desert. I even bought some canned cactus to try to be able to describe how it tasted, but I chickened out of actually eating any of it when my sibling said it was gross and near tasteless, so the taste descriptions for the plants were what was written on the page I found on the internet.  
> Also, no, I do not believe that Allen deserves to be blasted to bits because he was suspicious of a potential enemy. Both Allen and Neah were at fault there, it wasn’t just Allen’s fault like he was thinking, Allen just has this sort of guilt complex that, as Marie puts it, makes him blame himself for things.  
> Also, if anyone was wondering why Allen’s moon was a crescent moon and Neah’s moon was full, well, they’re Dreamscapes, they aren’t going to be accurate to the actual phase of the moon or even the time of day if they don’t want it to be.  
> Also, about calling Allen a gentle soul, well, he totally is, one of his main reasons for killing akuma is out of love and a main reason for battling noah is because of his love for his friends, he's really soft hearted, in my opinion, and that's not a bad things, I see myself in this way, as well.  
> And yes, I know copy-pasting the 14th's melody in there wasn't really necessary, everyone knows it, but it fit the mood, for me at least.  
> Alright, so the next chapter is the only other prewritten chapter that I’ve got to type up, and then I’ll have to write something before typing it up.   
> Next chapter is also where this fic officially sheds it’s skin and transitions into a crossover, but don’t worry, if you’ve only ever read even one DGM crossover it will most likely be the same category as this one, because after a lot of waffling over which fandom to choose I finally decided to pick the most common one so as not to lose too many readers. (I probably still will. I’m sorry, please don’t hate me for this! It was the only thing I could think to do to still stay happy with this story, because after taking a second look at the plot because of an inspiring review of FFnet, I was like, 'wow, this sucks and is really unoriginal for this being an alternate universe. Dammit, I have to do something about this or the readers will hate me.' and generally being unhappy with it, and if a writer isn’t happy with their story it tends to get dropped, I promise it’ll still fit with what I have already written!) *cringes, imagining hateful glares thrown at me through reader’s monitors.*

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, sorry, cliffhanger, which I hate as a reader as well, but this just seemed like a good place to stop at.  
> Don't worry though, I have the second and third chapters already written out, just on paper, so I have to type them up.  
> Also, please comment if there were any mistakes, because unlike with my other fics, this one is only beta'd by me, and while I'm good with spelling and grammar, I tend to mess up tenses. A lot.  
> Sorry the chapter was so short, don't worry, the next ones are longer.


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